


Six Sides to I Love You

by JSinister32



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Clueless Boys So In Love, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Ficlets, First Time, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rough Sex, Smut, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, lots of love, mild manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 08:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSinister32/pseuds/JSinister32
Summary: “The best kinds of love come from the most unique of places.  We were fortunate enough to understand that we needed to be in one another’s lives, even if we didn’t know why at first.”A collection of short stories reflecting the six most common types of love: from devotion to passion, obsession and the comfort of longevity, love in its truest form is truly all Hannibal and Will will ever need.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 37
Kudos: 99
Collections: The best of Hannigram





	Six Sides to I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: the quote at the beginning of this story was once told to me by someone for whom I cared very dearly. While we no longer speak, he is never very far from my thoughts. It served as the inspiration for this collection.
> 
> One of these stories takes place in the same universe as the How You'll Find Me series. For those of you following Between the Lines or The Things Unspoken, I hope you enjoy the extra little tidbit. 🤍
> 
> Hearts and Body Parts,  
> JM
> 
> NOTE: I absolutely hate having to add this note in my stories, just so you all know. I do not allow translations or copies to other sites. If you find my work anywhere other than AO3, please let me know. Thank you for understanding.

_I look at you and I see someone I’ve known my whole life-_  
_Before I was born, after I’m gone, forever._  
_Someone who looks back and sees me, right into me._  
_Someone I can’t stop looking at,_  
_And don’t want to ever stop looking at._

***

**Eros**  
_A passionate physical and emotional love_  
_Based on aesthetic enjoyment;_  
_Stereotype of romantic love._

_Mm._ Hannibal’s hands followed the curve of Will’s spine, fingers tracing the delicate skin that covered each vertebrae. The gentle caress brought a low, keening sound to the base of Will’s throat; he turned his head where it rested upon the pillow and gazed around the room at the pools of candle light, letting his mind melt into the physical sensation offered up so freely by his lover’s touch.

Wherever Hannibal’s fingertips trailed, his lips followed, fire igniting in Will’s blood in their wake. The shock of pleasure along Will’s skin was enough to make him shift against the sheets, seeking any sort of friction, relief. His body felt electrified. Every hair raised on end; his breath caught and snagged on a ragged moan. Hannibal had yet to make it to the middle his his back and already he wanted to be taken again.

“Shhh, darling,” came the soft murmur from behind him. “Rest for me. Let me enjoy you.” Will huffed against the pillow and let his hands flex in the sheets, trying to calm the inferno blazing beneath his skin. Hannibal’s lips returned to the bumps of his spine; each graced with lazy, open mouthed kisses as Will did his best to keep from squirming beneath him. Hannibal’s fingers curved along his waist as his mouth trailed down, laving at his tailbone. Thumbs caressed the divots at the top of his ass, dipped lower to pry him apart. Will whimpered when Hannibal’s breath ghosted over the puckered skin of his entrance; silently, he howled into the pillow, begging himself to have a little restraint.

“Up for me, my love. On your hands and knees, if you would be so kind.” Will struggled to comply; blood pounded in his ears, a sharp spike of lust piercing somewhere very near his heart. Hannibal’s hands encircled his waist to support him, reached for the pillow on which he’d cradled his head, bringing it close enough for him to rest his forearms. When he was positioned to the other man’s liking, Hannibal returned to his knees, gazing at the feast before him. Will’s skin glowed in the candlelight; a small pool of sweat gathered at the base of his neck where he struggled to keep his passion in check. Hannibal reached between Will’s spread thighs and gathered his cock in his hands, stroking gently enough for him to feel it without providing any real relief. Will moaned, his breath coming in ragged, gasping pleas. Moisture gathered beneath the doctor’s palm, and with a final, tender squeeze, he released his lover, earning himself a string of blasphemy as Will struggled to hold his position.

“I know, sweet,” Hannibal crooned, parting Will’s cheeks to bare his puckered entrance to the candlelight. “I know. Breathe it down for me. We still have quite some time before you earn what you desire.” The first gentle lick from balls to tailbone bowed the profiler’s spine, brought Will’s face low to the bed in submission. Hannibal gently traced the furrowed muscle, coaxing him to relax beneath the maddening spiral of his tongue. Will panted, his face flushed red as he fought to keep his composure, his body taut as a bowstring. Hannibal worked him with his mouth, gently opening his lover for his pleasure with licks and nips, soft ingresses and wet pressure. 

By the time he relented and sourced the black bottle of lubricant at his side, Will had lost the ability to speak altogether. Hannibal stood and gathered his lover’s hands to the small of his back, holding them there as he slicked his own straining cock. Will’s body shook beneath his hands, his voice trapped low and keening in his throat. Hannibal’s thighs trembled as he moved in place, pressing the spongy head of his prick to the softened and open muscle of Will’s entrance. Without warning, he pushed in; a single slow slide until their hips came flush. Will moaned and spread his thighs wider, taking everything Hannibal offered him, his hands clutching at the wrist that held them tightly in place. 

At once, the doctor began to move. The pace he set was relentless; he was so hard, gentle would not have sufficed. They’d spent the last two days shut up in Hannibal’s bedroom in reverent exploration, hands caressing skin as if they were afraid the other would melt away. They had talked and laughed, shared secrets and bared souls in ways neither man had ever thought themselves capable. It was because of their discussions that Will was now bent before him, taking everything Hannibal could give. He had never before had a lover who had not been afraid he would break open inside if he had anything but soft and candy pink lovemaking. Hannibal was the only man to ever fully understand the delights of submission; he gave the profiler everything he needed, offered it without mercy.

Will’s groans turned to high pitch cries within minutes. Hannibal heaved him up to all fours, easing the pounding on the other man’s prostate to a gentle nudge. His hands moved to Will’s hips; gripping, feeling the muscle beneath his skin as they fucked. Will tried to quiet his cries of enjoyment, his throat tight with effort. Hannibal smiled, a feral baring of teeth.

“Oh no you don’t, darling. Do not bite down on your sounds. Share them with me while I take you.” The profiler was helpless but to obey the quiet command. One of Hannibal’s hands trailed up to grip a shoulder; Will knew what was coming, tried to brace his body for the onslaught. It didn’t help. The first slam brought forth a noise Hannibal wouldn’t forget as long as he lived. Will begged without words, his cock so painfully hard, it slapped against his stomach at every thrust. Without slowing, Hannibal squeezed the other man’s hip in acquiescence.

“You’ll want to come now, will you?” he asked, his broken voice soft in the candlelight. Will nodded frantically, canted his hips up like an animal in heat. He didn’t care. He had been reduced to a creature of feeling, taking what he was given. It felt better than any fucking thing in the world. Hannibal picked up the pace, taking Will’s body as hard and fast as he dared. 

“Come for me, Will,” he growled. “Come on my cock, feel me buried deep within you. Take what you need from me.” With a final cry, Will came; the roiling, white waves of ecstasy blew him to pieces. Each crest hit harder as Hannibal ground into his prostate with every thrust. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t hear or feel anything except the sensations offered up to him by the man who had taken possession of his very soul. He came without a single touch to his own cock, spurting across the sheets in shaking relief.

He was hardly aware when he was heaved up to his knees and impaled on his lover’s cock, nor of the sting of teeth in his shoulder as Hannibal found his own release deep within his body. They shook together; Hannibal’s legs grew weak as his orgasm rode him down, draining what remained of his energy. They collapsed to the bed, panting in the shock of silence that now surrounded them. Will drifted, watched motes of dust as they drifted through the candlelight, quietly aware that he was laying in the damp mess he’d made of the sheets. When he could, Hannibal stood on unsteady legs and made his way to the bathroom, returning with a warm, clean cloth. He turned Will over gently, kissed his mouth as he cleaned their exertions from his lover’s skin.

“That was-” Hannibal nodded, finding himself strangely unable to speak.

“Indeed,” he murmured. They crawled beneath the covers, slotting together as if they’d slept that way every night of the last twenty years. Hannibal carded his hands through the riot of curls that graced the top of Will’s head, kissing his forehead as their eyes drifted closed. The candles in the room pooled into their own wax, eventually burning away to nothing. The night turned black around them, holding them gently in its embrace as they slept on. Words could come later; for now, this was all they needed in the world.

* * *

***

**Ludus**  
_A love that is played as a game or sport;_  
_Conquest;_  
_May have multiple partners at once._

Will sat in the window seat in his bedroom and attempted to light a cigarette. His hands were shaking too hard for him to get the flint to catch. Cold air pressed in around him; the thin dressing gown was not meant for warmth so much as decoration. He couldn’t remember ever wearing it before, but the image of the possible delight in Hannibal’s eyes when he had seen it hanging in his closet had made the temptation to don it impossible to resist. 

He tried not to regret the decision, even with the shivers wracking his body.

The man in question was still in the shower. They had to be at their respective workplaces in less than two hours; Hannibal would never allow himself to be seen in the same clothing as the day before. Even if he was the only one to know, Will understood him well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to bear it. To save time, he’d kissed Will’s forehead and slipped from the bed, even as the profiler had reached for him in his sleep. Will didn’t dare ask him to stay. He knew what the response would be before the words left his mouth.

The scenario in which he now found himself had happened a total of three times; each wreaked more havoc upon his soul than the last. He kept his appointments, dutifully unburdening himself to the stoic man seated across from him, wishing he could get the picture of gripping the doctor’s broad shoulders out of his mind. Hannibal would simply smirk and continue speaking as if he didn’t have a clue what Will was thinking. They both played their parts until his sessions came to an end; only then would Hannibal call him back from the doorway, offer him a glass of wine or expensive scotch. It was becoming their signal of sorts, a way for Will to know what the other man had on his mind.

Their conversations changed while remaining remarkably clinical; Hannibal had managed to convince him to admit that he found men attractive, albeit in an abstract sense. Their hypotheses were, of course, best if tested; did he have a type? Would kissing a man be any different than kissing a woman? Perhaps taken by someone who could ensure he never felt out of his element? Each question was considered and answered in dry remarks devoid of any emotion, but Will could feel the flood of fire in his veins as he watched Hannibal circle closer, bringing himself within the profiler’s personal space as he continued his line of query. He let his initial touches land and linger, let himself be coaxed towards the inevitable precipice to which he was being lead.

In the end, they had fallen upon one another with the hunger of wild dogs. Will lost three buttons on his shirt, and he still hadn’t seen Hannibal in the suit he had been wearing that night; they had broken the zipper to his pants in their mutual, frenzied efforts to remove them. Their kisses burned along Will’s skin, branding him beneath the skin, to his very bones. He wanted it to feel special, monumental; the man he hadn’t been able to eject from his mind was stripping him bare in an effort to gain access to his skin. When Hannibal finally entered him, he had been so incensed with need that he hardly remembered anything beyond the painful ache of being filled to the seams, the quiet panic in his soul as Hannibal drove his breath from his lungs. They had kissed while they fucked; something gentle in the doctor’s eyes kept him grounded. Hannibal told him he was beautiful, whispered to him how warm he was inside as they ground together and moaned into the fire-lit air.

Will couldn’t remember another instance when he had managed to come as hard as he did that first night. He couldn’t look at the couch in Hannibal’s office without turning a brilliant shade of pink; Hannibal brought it into conversation as often as possible, a small smirk firmly in place.

The spell had broken almost as soon as it was over. Their passion spent, Hannibal had helped him stand, smoothed and tucked his shirt for him so he remained somewhat presentable. They bid one another goodnight as if nothing had happened, and weeks went by without so much as a whisper of what had happened between them. 

Will wondered if he had been bad at it. It nagged at him; the thought that he had a single opportunity to impress the handsome doctor ate him from the inside every time he allowed himself to think upon it. He let the weeks pass without incident, grateful the worst wound they suffered was the ache in his heart.

The second time had been much the same; both men had too much to drink and ended up fucking on Hannibal’s chaise lounge, Will riding him as if they were both about to die. The desire that burned within the doctor’s eyes was enough to ease Will through the worst of the initial stabbing pain; within minutes, he worked himself for Hannibal’s pleasure as if he he’d done it a thousand times before. He managed to escape the office before a word could be spoken, ashamed for being so wonderfully sated by the experience. It kept him company as the weeks passed; he would often find his thoughts straying to the look on Hannibal’s face, the feeling of his thumbs grazing over Will’s hipbones as he took what he wanted. The memory of the other man’s mouth falling open in pleasure as he filled Will’s body with his emission was enough to push him, panting and shaking, over the precipice in the late hours of the night.

It had been harder to recover from his embarrassment, especially when he was the one who had initiated their intimate contact. He didn’t look Hannibal in the eyes for almost four days, and ended up canceling his weekly appointment, instead spending the time alone with only his jumbled thoughts for company. When they finally met again, Will managed to keep himself under control. Hannibal had been more careful with him than Will had ever experienced, touching him often and allowing each gentle caress to linger for some time before coming back to himself. Their careful maneuvering resumed when Hannibal deemed him of sound mind and heart. 

He had no idea that what they were doing was blowing Will to flaming pieces inside.

Will tried to forget them. A beautiful intern from one of his lectures offered to take him for coffee to pick his brain. He didn’t even remember her name. He accepted with little hesitation; his mind was incapable of understanding any kind of attraction to him, not with how broken he felt inside. When she had reached for his hand, he drew back with an apologetic smile. It felt too close to cheating for him to allow it. They parted ways, him feeling relieved, her only puzzlement. Word got around about the experience, and had somehow managed to reach the doctor’s ears as well. Hannibal had been silent and sullen at their next meeting, offering the barest of glances in his direction and only when required. Will wasn’t sure it was his fault, but it felt as if it was. Eventually, a case drew them back together, and things returned to what passed for normalcy between them.

Hannibal had gone to Alana not long after his disastrous almost date with the intern.

Had it been anyone else, it might not have hurt so much, but his flame for the gentle soul that resided within the brilliant psychiatrist still burned brightly. Although he stayed out of her way, his heart leapt a little each time they were forced to interact. She rarely sought him out unless Jack forced it; although she claimed they were friends, she made sure to keep him at an arm’s length. After his experiences with Hannibal, he was grateful it was a line he never felt brave enough to push.

They had spoken of her only once, after Will’s first near brush with intimacy with her. In the end, he had been so confused by his actions, he sought the only man that might bring some semblance of normalcy back to his scattered mind. Hannibal had made him dessert, taken him by the arm and lead him into his home office to soothe the ragged edges of his soul. Will had fallen asleep with his head in the doctor’s lap, the other man stroking an idle hand through his curls as they spoke. He didn’t leave until the next morning, nor had he had such a good night’s sleep since. 

While Hannibal never expressed an interest in her, the feeling was apparently not mutual; they were quite the topic of gossip amongst his colleagues these days. Will let the pain of the betrayal wash through him, refusing to let it take and real hold. He still made his appointments every week, still told the other man every blackened thought that crossed his mind. The pain made him honest; if Hannibal was surprised by his sudden need to express his darker inclinations, he didn’t breathe a word. Will did his best to keep his feelings in check, but Hannibal’s stoicism eventually wore him down.

The night before only served to prove that he didn’t have a shred of dignity or self control left to him. Hannibal had shown up at his doorstep, his reason dying in his throat at the look of desperate need on Will’s face when he opened the door. Without a word shared between them, they had gone to bed, flinging clothes off as they went. It had been the slowest the doctor had ever taken him, hands to his waist as Will arched from the bed beneath him. They had been up until long past three, fucking as often as their bodies would let them. When they weren’t having sex, they kissed and touched, not a word easing from their lips. Words would have broken whatever fragile framework they managed to erect around them. He wanted to ask about Alana. He wanted to tell Hannibal to go to hell, to leave him alone to his shattered heart. 

He never wanted him to leave.

When Will awoke in the morning, it had been to the sounds of the shower water running in the pipes, Hannibal leaning over him for the briefest of kisses. He lay amidst the ruins of his sheets and tried to fit his heart back together, but the pieces had begun to chip away to nothing, not quite forming what they had been. Instead, he gathered the dressing gown with the vain hope that Hannibal would like it and taken up the seat he currently occupied, waiting for the moment when the doctor would emerge from the water and take his leave; dreading and praying for it to be over with equal fervor.

The cigarette was still clamped between his teeth when Hannibal’s hand fell upon his shoulder. Will turned to find the warm, firm planes he had grasped restlessly the night before still bare to his gaze, a towel slung low on Hannibal’s hips. He watched a droplet of water trail down the side of the other man’s neck, another tiny piece of his soul crumbling away in its wake.

“Smoking before breakfast is a poor habit in which to find yourself, Will,” the doctor admonished, reaching to pluck the roll of tobacco from between the profiler’s lips. “It suppresses the appetite, setting you up poorly for the day.” Hannibal lay the cigarette aside and turned back, assessing the vision before him. The dressing gown appeared to be doing its job; the doctor was momentarily speechless, his eyes raking down the delight of Will’s form beneath the navy silk. Will breathed down the sudden spike of lust that roiled in his stomach; now was not the time to lose himself in the gleam of Hannibal’s blood and gold gaze.

“I don’t eat breakfast,” he managed. “So it doesn’t really matter what I do with my morning.” They regarded one another between the scant space that separated them for a long moment, neither man willing to break the silence.

“I thought you might join me in the shower this morning,” Hannibal finally murmured. He took a step closer, closing the distance that separated them; his gaze pinned Will in place against the frigid glass.

“I didn’t think you’d want that. You’ve never given any kind of indication of desiring intimacy beyond the brief moments we’ve shared.” Hannibal grinned; his teeth looked sharp in the thin grey light that filtered through Will’s curtains.

“I do not believe our moments to be all that brief.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” Hannibal acquiesced. “Perhaps I find it as difficult as you to voice my desires.” Will snorted and turned back to gaze out the window. It looked like rain; he would need to remember to bring his umbrella.

“What are you doing here?” he begged, his eyes still trained towards the cloudy skies. “Why did you come last night?” Hannibal stayed silent for a long moment, watching Will’s face.

“No reason of importance,” he finally replied. “I felt the need to see you, and I usually act upon such instincts. Giving in prevents further, more rash behavior on my part.” Will snorted, the window before him fogging up with his breath. Hannibal reached forward and stroked a hand through the profiler’s hair, tugging gently on the softness of his curls.

“Come to dinner with me tonight,” he murmured. “Not to my home, but somewhere neutral, where we can talk. There is much that needs to be said, but neither of us has the time for it just now.” 

“Why would I want to do that?” It was Hannibal’s turn to snort derisively.

“What reason have I given you to avoid it?” he countered. Will stayed silent; there was no point to bringing up the wreckage inside him. _Not now. Maybe tonight._

“Fine. Where do you want-”

“I will make plans and relay the information to you via text,” Hannibal cut in. He dropped the towel to the ground and moved through the bedroom, collecting his clothes without a care in the world. He knew Will was watching; Will knew he knew. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. The doctor’s shoulders bore red rivulets from his fingernails the night before. He wondered if Alana would see them and question. He wondered if he cared. 

Hannibal dressed quickly, running Will’s comb through his hair. With a final glance in the mirror, he made his way back to where Will sat and bent low. Grasping the profiler’s jaw in his hand, he brought their lips together in a searing kiss.

“Come prepared to discuss what there is between us,” he whispered against Will’s mouth. “And wear the blue suit, will you? It’s my favorite.” Will nodded as much as he could with his face in Hannibal’s hand.

“F-fine. I’ll see what I can do.” Hannibal placed a small kiss to the top of his head and strode from the room without so much as a glance back. Will watched from the window as he made his way to his car and drove away with yet another fragmented part of his heart and his sanity. He reached for the cigarette on the bedside table and looked at it for a long moment before crushing it between his palms. On his way to the kitchen, he threw it into the trash and tried to keep from thinking about what he was about to do.

Twenty minutes after arriving to work, Hannibal sent him directions to an upscale French restaurant, and asked him how he enjoyed his breakfast that morning. 

_Bastard._ Will’s hands trembled as he typed out his reply. 

* * *

***

**Storge**  
_An affectionate love_  
_That slowly develops from a friendship,_  
_Based on similarity._

“God, there is nothing better than your cooking. I don’t know what I did on weekends before we met.” Will leaned back into his chair with a smile and patted his stomach to emphasize his point. Hannibal watched him fondly, his heart nearly as full as Will’s stomach.

“You were very nearly starving yourself on a regular basis,” Hannibal replied neatly. “A poor diet of meals that come prepackaged in wrappers without a vegetable in sight.” Will laughed and nodded in agreement.

“You aren’t wrong. Although I still do that most of the time. Can’t let you change all of my favorite habits.” Hannibal shook his head and collected their plates, making his way through the dining room to the kitchen. He turned the sink on, letting it fill slowly as Will trailed into the room carrying his own plate and what remained of the dishes from the table. As the doctor pushed up his sleeves, he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder, steering him away from the sink.

“Oh no you don’t,” came the fond voice behind him. “You know the rules, Doctor Lecter. You cook, I clean. Now take a seat.” Hannibal smiled at his defeat; he’d known Will would insist on doing the dishes, but the argument had become such a part of their routine, he couldn’t help but continue the charade.

“If you insist,” he murmured. Will placed his other hand on Hannibal’s shoulders and guided him around to the bar. Without relinquishing his hold, he hooked a foot expertly into the wrought iron of the seat and pulled it out enough to push the other man into it. Hannibal sank onto the plush cushion and leaned into the counter with his chin on his hands, watching as Will tested the water before nodding to himself. They talked of small things as the pile of dishes grew smaller; Hannibal tried to busy himself by drying his china, but a stern look from his guest kept him in his seat. Will washed, dried and stored his dishes as carefully as if they were his own; watching him do this one task every weekend made Hannibal feel weak, warm and soft as a cat in a patch of sunlight. By the time he hung the towel back in its place, the doctor wanted nothing more than to strip the other man from his clothes and lie beneath a blanket, touch his skin and bring him pleasure. Instead, they made their way to the living room and sank into the couch with a sigh.

“What movie did you decide on tonight?” Will asked as he pressed the button on the remote in his hand. The television did not power on. Hannibal shut down the sensual thoughts that eased through his mind and gathered the blankets from the back of the couch, curling up beneath them as he watched Will struggle with the remote.

“It’s the other one,” he finally murmured. “The black one. Here.” He snagged it from the coffee table and handed it over. Will groaned good naturedly and took it from Hannibal’s hands, pointing it at the TV. Their fingers brushed together; the touch innocent but for the thoughts in Hannibal’s head.

“Christ, you’d think after being here so much that I’d remember which remote I need.” Will settled into his side of the couch, sliding his feet to nestle beside Hannibal’s beneath the blankets that now piled between them. Hannibal’s heart thumped gently at the contact; this part of their relationship was still new, each touch sending sparks of exhilarating pleasure down his spine at the smallest brush of their bodies.

“One day, perhaps,” he replied softly. “Until then, I have relegated myself to the task of reminding you each time.” Will laughed and settled in, pressed play on the opening credits of Jurassic Park.

It took less than fifteen minutes for their positions to change; Will was now cradled between Hannibal’s legs, his head resting comfortably against the upper swell of the doctor’s chest. Hannibal sighed happily and adjusted their blankets, pulling them up to Will’s chest in the way he knew he liked. Will sank into his arms, the wild unruliness of his hair tickling Hannibal’s neck as they watched the film. Hannibal stoked the profiler’s hair fondly, idly tracing patterns along his scalp as they absorbed the film together.

By the time the credits rolled, Will’s eyes were shuttered closed, his head nodding forward as his body struggled to stay alert. Hannibal turned off the TV and settled back, pulling the other man to lay prone against him. Hardly daring, he placed a secret kiss against Will’s forehead, resting their faces together gently in the quiet darkness that surrounded them.

“Will,” he murmured, shaking the other man’s shoulder gently. Will slept on.

“Darling,” he tried again, shaking harder. Will stirred softly but didn’t wake, a quiet noise of protest rising up into his throat. Hannibal stilled, trying to keep the noise where it belonged and not where he wanted it to be.

“Will, you’ve fallen asleep. If you stay like this, your neck will hurt in the morning.” A single eye cracked open to peer at him from where he lay against Hannibal’s chest. Instead of replying, the other man burrowed beneath the covers, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s waist.

“’M comfortable,” he protested. “Sleepy. Don’t wanna move yet.” Hannibal shook his shoulder again. 

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’d like,” he murmured, “but wouldn’t you prefer something more resembling a bed? I have a guest room, as you are well aware.” Will shook his head and burrowed further.

“Guest room ’s too far. Already here.” Hannibal’s heart hammered hard against his ribs. _Gods be good._

“If we fall asleep here, we will both be aching in the morning,” he warned. “No matter how comfortable, the couch is no substitute for a bed.” Will sighed louder than was necessary and nodded. Without another word he rolled, taking the blankets with him. Hannibal watched him curiously as he wandered down the hallway, leaving the lights as they were. He didn’t have to ask; he’d spent so much time in Hannibal’s home, he could find his way through it in the dark. 

Instead of making his way to the guest room, he opened the door to Hannibal’s bedroom and disappeared within, leaving the door ajar. Hannibal swallowed hard, wondering for a wild moment if Will had been mistaken on the room he’d chosen. _No. He knows this home as well as I._ He stood and collected their glasses, depositing them in the kitchen before following the other man into his bedroom. The sight that greeted him from the door was one that would stick with him the rest of his days; his bed covers were pulled down, and collapsed onto it in a bundle of blankets was warm, sleepy profiler. Will watched him from where he lay, his eyes fogged over with exhaustion. Hannibal shook his head fondly before making his way to the bathroom to prepare for the evening.

When he came out, Will had somehow managed to strip to his boxers. The blankets from the couch still surrounded him in a soft nest, but a wealth of skin was now visible to Hannibal’s hungry gaze. Will waited, soft eyed and sleep tousled, to see how the doctor would react. Hannibal approached, watching as the profiler’s pupils swelled gently in the darkened room. 

“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable here?” he whispered. Will considered the question with some sincerity before he nodded and opened the blankets. Hannibal approached slowly and tried to remember how to breathe. He slid into the sheets with some care, making sure to keep some distance between their bodies.

“Can’t wait to sleep next to you,” Will murmured as he nestled closer, closing the gap Hannibal had left. “Been waiting a long time.” They settled beneath the covers, skin to skin at last. Will’s hands cupped Hannibal’s face, brought their lips together in a brief kiss that shot fire into the doctor’s veins.

“We can figure it out tomorrow,” he murmured against Hannibal’s lips. “We’ve been dancing around one another long enough. For now, let’s just sleep. I’m exhausted.” Hannibal nodded and watched Will’s eyes fall closed, held him close against his chest as he felt his breathing even out. Even after the profiler fell asleep, he remained awake. His heart wouldn’t let him sleep.

* * *

***

**Pragma**  
_Enduring;_  
_Love that is driven by the head,_  
_Not only the heart._

“So how did you two meet?” The question caught Will off guard. He rolled the stem of his wineglass between his fingers, trying to decide how much- or little- to reveal to their curious guests about their past.

“Through our previous work,” Hannibal replied smoothly, taking the glass from his husband’s hands to replace it with another. “Will used to work for the illustrious office of the FBI, once upon a time. I was-”

“My savior,” Will interjected. “Although I would have been loathe to admit it back then.” He met Hannibal’s eyes, holding them gently with his own. “In fact, I hated him for quite some time.” The loose circle of partygoers that had joined them tittered like small birds; their faces filled with unbelieving delight.

“Surely you didn’t actually hate him,” Signora Gallo, the asker of the question, admonished. Her fine black hair was pulled back from her face, the earnestness in the question more plainly displayed in molasses depths of her eyes without her hair surrounding them. “Hate is such a strong word, completely unbecoming the relationship shared between you two. It is- how do you say in English-”

“Unseemly,” her husband rumbled at her side. She nodded, pleased. 

“Yes, it is unseemly to think such things.” Will leaned into Hannibal’s shoulder, let the other man’s mere proximity envelop him in its secure embrace.

“Perhaps, but it is the truth,” Hannibal replied with a small smile. “Although we were destined to become what we are now, we did not have the easiest of beginnings.” 

“In fact, we went out of our way to antagonize one another,” Will continued. His arm wound around Hannibal’s waist, pulling him close enough to smell the aftershave deepening on his neck. “It took us many different paths to understand what the volatile emotions we brought out in one another actually meant.” Hannibal’s fingers tightened on his shoulder reassuringly.

“The best kinds of love come from the most unique of places. We were fortunate enough to understand that we needed to be in one another’s lives, even if we didn’t know why at first.” The signora smiled, her eyes crinkling with happiness at the sentiment.

“And how did you figure it out? That you were-” her hand gestured delicately into the air. “Anime gemelle- Alonzo, how-”

“Soulmates,” Hannibal spoke up before her husband could finish her sentence for a second time. “That took giving everything we had to offer to each other with the understanding that we were taking a leap of faith, reaching for trust and companionship more than we wanted to reach for anger and vengeance.” 

“Vengeance?” another woman exclaimed, startled. Will nodded in ascent.

“Indeed. I once tracked him halfway across the world, to this very city in fact. When I got here, all thoughts of taking my pain out on him vanished in the wake of realizing that I had traveled so far to see his face.” He could feel Hannibal’s breath tighten; they rarely spoke of their time before what they had now become, but what he said was the truth. He couldn’t have killed his husband, even if he had still wanted to. He was already on his way to loving him by then, even if it took another half decade for him to admit it. 

“We never gave up on one another,” Hannibal continued. “The key to what we built upon the rocky foundations of our beginnings was the knowledge that nothing mattered beyond what we have together. It has remained our cornerstone ever since.”

“How romantic, the two of you. Your story sounds like the kind that legends are made from.” She sighed wistfully; the crowd’s laughter covered the mischievous look Will shot in Hannibal’s direction. Beneath their bed, a box held all the articles from their disappearance since the Dragon’s demise. _They_ _’re really not that far from the truth,_ Will mused. _In a way, we will live on; our deeds will likely breathe life into us long after we turn to dust. Not fairytales perhaps_ _… but the stuff of campfire stories._

“We’ve come quite a way since our days in the states,” he readily agreed. “We are much happier here, amongst such wonderful guests.”

“And how grateful we are, especially to eat the foods your husband prepares!” Alonzo’s voice rang out through the room to the general amusement of the others. 

“And on that note, I believe it’s time for dessert to be served,” Hannibal replied smoothly. “Darling, may I have your assistance with plating our final course?” Will nodded and they excused themselves to the kitchen, gesturing for everyone to return to their seats.

***

Will’s back hit the bed with surprising force, Hannibal’s mouth stealing his moans from the air. Gloriously naked beneath him, the doctor wasted no time in reaching for the bedside table, ravenous to take what was rightfully his. Their hands caught and tangled, mouths fusing together as Hannibal pushed inside, breaching his husband’s body with practiced ease. For a moment they rested together, absorbing the feeling of coming together at last.

No matter how many times they made love, it never lost an ounce of its potency.

“Do you truly believe us to be soulmates?” Will panted as he reached for Hannibal’s mouth. Their lips brushed together gently, soft as the candlelight that surrounded them.

“I believe we were destined to be more than we were in our previous lives,” he admitted. “When I saw you, I knew you. While it terrified me, I came to the understanding that there was nothing I would not do for you.” 

“You proved that,” Will moaned as he adjusted to the feeling of fullness Hannibal provided. “Over and over again. You’ve killed for me. Protected me. Waited for me. Hell, you even allowed yourself to be captured, just so you’d be there when I needed you.” Hannibal nodded, watching his husband’s face contort with pleasure.

“And I will continue to do what is necessary for us to truly live,” he promised. “It does not matter what occurs in the time we have left on this earth. I will always choose what we have, who we have become together.” Will nodded weakly and shifted his hips, easing another inch of Hannibal’s cock into his body.

“No more talking,” he whispered against Hannibal’s lips. “Show me, love.”

* * *

***

**Mania**  
_Obsessive love;_  
_Experience great emotional highs and lows;_  
_Very possessive and often_  
_Jealous lovers._

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Will bit out through gritted teeth. “You’re welcome to feel however you want about whomever you want. I just don’t have to sit here and watch it happen.” Hannibal’s smile thinned to almost a snarl, his lip curling over pointed teeth. 

“It was my honest mistake, Will. I did not know you planned to dine here this evening, nor did I have a clue that seeing me here with Alana would raise your hackles in such a manner.” Will’s laughter spilled out around the room, causing several other diners to glance warily in their direction. The sound shattered like broken glass.

“Of course you didn’t know,” he retorted sarcastically. “How _would_ you know unless you overheard me talking to Jack, explaining to him that I was having my first date since my disastrous collision course with Alana last year? How could you _possibly_ know that I’d be here, unless you happened to check my emails like you have a horrible habit of doing whenever you’re in my office? It’s not like you’d see the reservation confirmation amongst the ads for life insurance and erectile dysfunction medication, not unless you were specifically looking for it.” Hannibal wiped his mouth with his napkin, unaffected by the outburst. Inside, he was a flaming wreck, but it would do no good for Will to know that.

“And to what end would I bring Alana here?” he asked smoothly, pleased that his voice came out steady. “What pleasure would it bring me to see you in pain?” Will stared long at the man who sat so stoically at the table before him, his cerulean eyes searching.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, visibly deflating. He ran a hand unconsciously through his hair and looked away, to the table where his curious date sat waiting. “I don’t know why you do any of the things you do. I just wish-”

“Will?” Alana’s voice cut through his conversation, effectively choking the words down into his throat. Without another word, Will stormed off through the restaurant. Hannibal watched him without comment as he murmured some apology to the woman in the other seat before gathering his coat. The profiler resolutely kept his eyes forward as he moved at an almost run to the doors of the restaurant, bursting through and into the cool night air. The woman at the table stood, embarrassment clear on her face. With as much dignity as she could muster, she slipped from the room.

The sounds of the other diners took several minutes to return.

“What was that all about?” Alana asked, smoothing back her chestnut hair from her face. Hannibal gazed without really seeing her, his mind already following Will home. He knew the profiler well enough to know he would lock the doors and go searching for a bottle of alcoholic oblivion before sinking into the worn couch in his living room to wallow in the pity of once again being outmaneuvered. Alana reached over and grazed her fingers along his wrist, bringing Hannibal’s attention back to the room he currently occupied.

“Will and I had something of a disagreement while you were using the facilities. Forgive me, Alana,” he murmured, contrite. “Do you mind terribly if we leave? Will’s outburst has left me in something of a tempestuous mood, and I would rather not take my emotional turmoil out on you.” The woman across from him stared into his face for several moments, assessing, before she nodded her agreement.

“You’ll have to explain to me what’s going on between you two,” she murmured as they signaled the waiter. “Every time I see you together, I can’t decide if you’re friends or enemies.” _And that, dear woman, is part of the enjoyment,_ Hannibal thought. He paid for their drinks and drove Alana home, dropping her at her door with a platonic kiss to the jaw. He dodged her invitation to come inside with the claim of a headache, making his way back to his vehicle without so much as a wave. Alana stood on her porch, watching him drive away. She remained until her body grew cold, her mind racing as she tried to understand Hannibal’s motives for inviting her out in the first place.

 _It isn_ _’t as if he’s interested in me,_ she thought bitterly _. He_ _’s made that abundantly clear. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would say it was to make Will jealous, but that’s ridiculous… isn’t it?_

 _Isn_ ' _t it?_

***

Will’s heart ached at the memory of Alana and Hannibal sitting so close together, laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Upon his quick departure from the restaurant, he had procured the cheapest bottle of whiskey the general store by his house had on its shelves; a valiant effort would be made to punish himself for his outburst. He made his way home without incident, feeding his dogs a second dinner before settling in on the couch with a crystal tumbler and the bottle of Kentucky Straight the attendant had sold him. The stuff he poured into his glass smelled slightly of gasoline, but the first two fingers did the trick; his mind fuzzed as it burned away the emotions roiling away in his chest. 

By the second glass, he almost felt human once again. He stared into the glass, wondering if he should call Hannibal and apologize. Or call him a bastard. _Better left til morning,_ he decided. _No need to become maudlin._

The knock on his front door shattered through the careful walls Will had constructed when he arrived home. Head spinning, he stood and made his way to the door. He didn’t bother to take the time to look through the peep hole; he pulled the door open, liquor sloshing over the rim of his glass and onto his hand as it came free of the frame. He staggered back, barely keeping his feet. At the sight of the person on the other side, he inwardly groaned.

Hannibal stood framed in the doorway, staring at him with hungry, disapproving eyes. Will’s heart thumped painfully against his ribs as he took in the pristine sight of the man before him; he had clearly just come from dinner, likely dropping Alana off at his home so he could check on Will. Much to his annoyance, the doctor obviously knew him well enough to refrain from an attempt to call; Will wouldn’t have answered. Instead, he simply showed up at his home, effectively ensuring the other man couldn’t avoid him. _Damn him. Damn him straight to hell._

“What do you want?” The words came out slurred, wearier than Will intended. Hannibal watched him from the doorway without speaking. Will cleared his throat, suddenly nervous.

“If you drove all this way to chastise me, it isn’t going to do you any good. I’m already mostly on my way to shit faced, and even if I feel it tomorrow, all it will do will prevent me from feeling… anything else.” Hannibal’s eyes bored into his own, challenging without speaking. The irritation Will had been fighting earlier resurfaced, mingled with the whiskey that roiled in his stomach. His entire body burned with the need to lash out at the man in his doorway, the one person for whom he didn’t know how to feel.

“Are you going to say anything, or just stand there all night?” he shouted at last. “I’m tired, my heart aches, and I don’t understand-” Hannibal surged forward and grasped the front of his shirt, turning him in a perfect arc to use his back to shut the front door. The glass he’d been clutching like a lifeline fell from his grasp, shattering in a thousand musical pieces as it hit the floor. Will gasped, shock freezing him in place as Hannibal slammed him into the door, pinning his body in place with his own. Large hands cupped his face, tilting it to meet the bloodstained gaze boring down into him. He felt naked, ripped open at the seams, all his secrets and desires laid bare to the doctor’s hungry eyes.

“Hannibal-” Will’s words were cut off with the crash of Hannibal’s mouth against his own. It hurt; it was everything he needed it to be. A low, needy sound escaped Will’s throat, betraying every emotion he had kept so carefully contained beneath the surface. For long moments, they fought without speaking, teeth clashing painfully together, lips bitten as the bruising kiss said everything they couldn’t. Will didn’t know how long he stood, pinned against the wood of his door, nor could he quite pinpoint the moment their contact changed. The hands on his face loosened, became a gentle cradle against his jaw. The bite of the kiss softened; turned to a warm, maddening brush of satin pressed to his own shocked lips. Will’s hands unconsciously found their way into Hannibal’s hair as their kiss deepened, tongues flashing together greedily as they devoured one another. Hannibal’s hands released his jaw to skim up his sides, fingertips ghosting over the shirt that now felt as if it barely covered his skin. 

They kissed until their jaws ached, hands roaming deftly over clothing to search for the warmth beneath. Hannibal broke the seal of their lips with a gasp, resting his forehead against Will’s. Their breath mingled in the scant space between them, damp and hot against Will’s cheek.

Their eyes met in the low light; Will let the walls he’d built to protect himself from his growing feelings fall away in the wake of what he saw in Hannibal’s face. His guard shattered to the ground to join the pieces of his tumbler, just as sharp, just as dangerous. He let them lie there, unafraid. Their lips met a third time, as soft as falling snow.

Without a word, the doctor swept Will into his arms and made his way to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind them.

* * *

***

**Agape**  
_Selfless altruistic love;_  
_Spiritual and self sacrificing devotion._

It took reaching for the doors of the hospital for him to realize his hands were shaking. Will took a deep breath and tried to steady the pounding of his heart. He knew it was no use; all the time he’d tried to fight it, the hours he had put into making himself forget and move on were now bitter ashes on his tongue. Instead, he stood before the foreboding structure of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane, willing himself to find some semblance of calm.

If Jack could have stayed away, he might have been able to make it. Had it not been for the man they had deemed ‘The Tooth Fairy’, he had a change of holding out forever. The letters they shared didn’t mean a thing, not really. He could have kept his distance; the feelings he forced himself to examine every month while wandering the walls that contained his memories of shared sessions with Hannibal might have been pushed down into the box he labeled clearly within his heart: Do Not Open. Danger Ahead. Everything would have gone to plan; a new life with Molly at his side. He would have burned the letters eventually, just as he burned the doctor’s warning once he read it.

It was not to be. Jack knew just which buttons to push to get the reaction he wanted; Will took one look at the photographs the agent had brought with him and knew he wouldn’t say no. Not if there was a chance he could make it stop. Jack had even gone so far as to recruit Molly without her knowledge, giving him the extra little push, just in case he needed it. It didn’t matter what warnings he offered to her, how much he knew it would change him to go down that path again. She insisted he do what was right.

The first crime scene he visited transported him right back into his old life, brought forth his abilities as if he hadn’t spent the last three years suppressing them. He saw everything unfold before him as if he was watching through the window of the killer’s eyes; the shards of mirror, the hot rivulets of blood as they spurted from fatal wounds, forming the jigsaw of splashed patterns before him. Everything about the crime and how it was committed fell into place with an inaudible snap.

Only one mystery remained, but he knew that without his old mindset and the man responsible for cultivating it, he would never be able to answer the question they all so desperately needed to know. _How were they being chosen? Why these families, out of so many others? What bound them together, drew the attention of such a monster? Why can_ _’t I see him as clearly as I can see his crimes?_

He knew what he had to do, but everything in his body railed against the very idea of it. He thought back to the lack of a fight Jack put forth when he suggested it, secretly hating him just a little more than usual. _You could have said no, put a stop to my insanity long before it got to this point,_ he thought bitterly. _Instead, just as before, you lead me down the darkest path and straight to the lion_ _’s den._

Will braced himself against the cold and pried open the door, making his way through the brightly lit forayer to the polished marble reception desk. The door slammed closed behind him with an echoing thud. Startled, he jumped.

“First time visiting?” came a voice; one he’d hoped to avoid while there. Will steeled himself and tried for a smile; the lifting of the corners of his mouth would have to suffice.

“Wouldn’t you know if I had been here before?” he asked. Alana smiled back, her own about as genuine as his felt. It didn’t reach her eyes. She looked… different since he last saw her. Stronger. More in control. _Perhaps when you have someone as broken as Margot Verger at your side, your own weaknesses account for much less of your personality._

“I would,” she replied, extending her hand forth. He took it for the briefest of moments before releasing her once again. “I had honestly hoped you would stay away forever but…”

“Yeah.” They regarded one another silently for a few moments before she turned, revealing the cane she still clutched in her hands. 

“You will be left as alone as you can hope while you two catch up. I will not be recording your sessions, but I have to warn you- Frederick knows you have come to see him. I do not make the same promises for him, so please try to conclude your business with him as quickly as you can.” She scanned a card on a discreet panel beside the pale door that stood between them and Hannibal’s domain. The door beeped and unlocked with a whisper.

“I never wanted this for you, Will,” she murmured as he passed. “I wanted you to stay safe. Happy.” He nodded. She meant what she said; he could hear the regret in her voice.

“We don’t always get what we want, though. Do we?” 

“No. I suppose that’s true.” She stepped back, giving him a glimpse down the hallway. “Just inform the orderly on duty when you are ready to leave and he will buzz you out.” Will glanced around to where she stood; her fear was as palpable as her wishes to hide it. The sudden rush of resentment that filled him took him by surprise.

“You’re not coming with me?” She shook her head and turned away.

“No. This conversation between you two… it’s too intimate for me to take part.” The hesitant pause before her next words said everything and nothing at once. “He’s been waiting a long time for you, Will. While I hoped the day would never come, I can’t deny him what is his… not now that you’ve so willingly come back into the circle of his influence.” 

They parted without another word; Will made his way down the corridor, his footsteps echoing loudly off the stone floors. His stomach tightened; sweat pooled and prickled at the base of his neck. _It_ _’s fine. I can do this._

The room opened into what must have served as a brightly lit living area at one time. Most of the space was surrounded by thick Plexiglas, but the confines themselves were decorated in as much opulence as could be afforded in such a place. Books lined the back walls, a fireplace splitting the shelves into two sections. A massive desk stood to one side, the chair pushed in as if to keep the room as tidy as possible. Several letters stood atop the desk; Will started when he realized they were his own. A worn armchair sat before the fire, looking well used and comfortable. The scant bed was made with military precision, white sheets and blanket glowing in the fluorescent light. Will let his eyes drift for some time before coming to rest on the figure that stood with his back to him.

Time did not take away the shock of seeing him at last. His hair was shorter and inexpertly cut, but he still stood as if the entire world belonged to him; back straight and hands dangling at ease at his sides. All the feelings Will had sent in his letters, all the lonely nights and questions, the heartache and pain and longing… it rushed back into him with such force, he wanted to stagger with it. For a moment, the room felt as if all the oxygen had been stolen from it; he couldn’t take in a breath.

When Hannibal turned, their gazes met, and Will knew the beginning of his end had finally come.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter.” Hannibal stared for a beat, taking in his face as hungrily as Will himself knew he was devouring the other man’s features.

“Hello, Will.”

_And so it begins. At last._


End file.
